


The Girl Who Dreamed of Flying

by Icicle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BAMF Ginny Weasley, Bisexuality, Community: femmeslash, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Face Slapping, Fingerfucking, Ginny actually has a personality, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Infidelity, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Love/Hate, M/M, POV Ginny Weasley, Pansy is a hot bitch, Public Sex, Quidditch, Smut, girl love, hot girl quidditch, quidditch pitch sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icicle/pseuds/Icicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny knew that she could never be a perfect housewife like her mother. Everyone thought that she had it all and would become the future Mrs Potter. But  Ginny had other dreams, like travelling the world and playing professional Quidditch. When she receives an invitation to try out for the new all female Quidditch team, the Uxbridge Unicorns, Ginny is ecstatic—that is—until she realises that the Manager and Owner of the team is one Pansy Parkinson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl Who Dreamed of Flying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluemermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemermaid/gifts).



> [](http://bluemermaid.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://bluemermaid.dreamwidth.org/)**bluemermaid** asked for femmeslash, infidelity, angst, an unexpected meeting, hair pulling, hate!sex, sex in public, grass, and lipstick. I tried my best to incorporate all those requests. I hope you enjoy it, dear. A million thanks to A for all her help!

**Title:** _The Girl Who Dreamed of Flying_

 **Author:** icicle33

 **Rating:** NC-17

 **Pairing(s):** Harry/Ginny, Pansy/Ginny, implied Harry/Draco

 **Word Count:** ~9000

 **Warnings:** infidelity, hate!sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, exhibitionism

 

* * *

 

 

 

**~*~**

 

 

 

Ginny raced down the squeaky steps of the Burrow, careful not to trip over her untied trainers, and ran straight into the kitchen. She was running late, as usual, and needed to hurry up and eat breakfast if she was going to make it to her tryout on time. It would have been easier to grab a piece of toast and leave, but of course, her mother would never let her leave the house without a proper meal.

 _Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, dear._ She heard her mother’s grating voice in the back of her mind. _If you don’t eat breakfast, you’ll never have enough energy to amount to anything in life. Is that what you want, Ginevra?_

No, there was no time for arguing today—not if she was going to make it all the way to West London by 10 am. With her hands tangled in her wild curls, attempting to tame them into a ponytail, Ginny plopped herself down at the kitchen table and crossed one leg underneath her.

“Morning, Mum. Harry.” Ginny flashed both Harry and her mother a bright smile that she hoped didn't appear forced.

“Morning, darling. Nice of you to finally join us.” Her mother put down the silverware she was polishing and walked over to the table, placing a kiss on Ginny’s forehead. “Sit like a lady, Ginevra,” she chided, scrunching her nose at Ginny’s crossed legs. Ginny rolled her eyes but uncrossed her legs. Of course, as soon as her mother turned her back and went back to polishing silverware, she crossed them again. She liked sitting with one leg crossed underneath her and hanging off the chair. What did she care if it was unladylike? Being a lady was overrated.

“Hi, Gin,” Harry said, with his own wide smile. “I saved you some toast.”

“Thanks.” She eyed the over-buttered toast wearily, but decided not to complain since it was a nice gesture. Munching on the toast, which was only mildly disgusting, she stole a large gulp of Harry’s tea to wash it down.

“So are you ready for your tryout?”

Ginny scarfed down the rest of her toast and took another sip of tea before responding.

“Yeah, I’m all ready.” She finished her last couple of bites of toast and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “Just gotta hurry, so I’m not late.”

“Oh, right.” Harry pushed the rest of his tea toward her and chewed his bottom lip. “Well, good luck, Gin. Not that you’ll need it. And...”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Harry sighed. “And—I’m sorry that I haven’t been around to help you train. You know...and that I’ve been working so much.” Harry was fiddling with his hands and staring down at his empty plate.

Ginny almost choked on her tea. It wasn’t like Harry to apologise, let alone do it in front of her mother. What was up with him lately? He had been acting so strange. She sighed. She didn’t have the time to analyse Harry’s behaviour; it could wait until later tonight. Hopefully, after she was already a member of next year’s Uxbridge Unicorns.

“That’s quite alright, Harry. It’s not your fault that you have to work so much and _can’t_ say no to people.”

She got up from the table and squeezed his shoulder, leaning in close enough to sniff his hair. He smelt of citrus and musk, perhaps even a hint of sandalwood as well. How odd. Was that cologne? Ginny couldn’t remember Harry ever wearing cologne before. It must be new.

Underneath her touch, Harry’s tense shoulder relaxed and he leant into her embrace, resting his head on her hand. “I-I-”

“No, Harry, it’s okay. Charlie and Ron have been working with me. I’m confident that I’ll make the team.”

“Right.”

Harry rubbed his head against Ginny’s hand, and Ginny bent over to kiss him on the forehead. “I really gotta go though.” She ruffled his thick hair, softer than usual underneath her fingertips. “You smell good too. I like your new cologne.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice taking on a bright tone, “it was a gift.”

Ginny snorted and shook her head. People were always giving her boyfriend gifts; although, it was rare for him to actually accept them. Usually, he smiled politely and declined them.

“We’ll talk tonight. Maybe go out for a drink.”

As she turned to leave, grabbing a banana for the road, Harry called out to her.

“Wait.”

“Yes?” Ginny huffed under her breath.

“I can’t get a drink with you, tonight. I-I-” Harry was stumbling over his words again and running his fingers through his hair. He only did that when he was nervous or lying. Not a good sign.

“Why not?”

“Because...’cause...I have to work-late-again,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny let out a disgruntled sigh. “What else is new? I have to go.”

Harry grimaced, his pale face taking on a greenish tinge. “I really am sorry,” he squeaked.

“They scheduled me the last Potions consult again.”

Ginny waved him off. “It’s fine.”

She turned to walk out the door for the second time, squeezing the banana in her hand much harder than necessary. Lately, Harry always had an excuse for everything and was never around. Most of the time, it didn’t bother her, but she wanted him to be around to celebrate with her tonight. He was her boyfriend after all. Oh well, at least she had survived breakfast without her mother’s usual interrogations. Thank Merlin she was so wrapped up in her cleaning that she wasn’t listening to their conversation. A smile started playing on Ginny’s lips when a warm hand grabbed her ear and pulled her back into the kitchen.

“Hold it right there, young lady. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Mummmm!” Ginny whinged. “Stop it. That hurts.”

Her mother released her ear, but now stood blocking the doorway with her hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. “Did you really think you were going to leave this house without telling me about this... _tryout_?”

Ginny squeezed the banana again and smiled at her mother as sweetly as possible.

“Mum...we’ll talk later. I can’t be late!”

“No. Now... _Ginevra Molly Weasley_!”

Ginny gulped. Her mother only used her full name when she was in big trouble. “ _Fine._ ” She knew that it was hopeless to argue when her mother used that _voice_. She might as well tell her truth. “I’m trying out for a professional Quidditch team...the Uxbridge Unicorns.”  
Her mother frowned and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “The _Unicorns_?”

“Yes, it a new a team, Molly. Part of the brand new Women’s Professional Quidditch Team League,” Harry explained calmly, breaking up the heavy tension in the room. “They won the Cup last year and beat the Harpies.”

Mum’s sharp look softened and she turned to face Harry. “Really, dear?”

“Yes, it’s a small but very prestigious league, Molly. They started last year and have a ton of fans and sponsors already. They only have six teams at the moment, but I’m certain they’ll continue expanding.”

He blinked his long eyelashes and offered Mum his most dazzling smile, showing off his pearly teeth and crinkling his eyes. Ginny’s breath hitched and she hoped that her mother had the same response. After all, that same smile had caused her to fall in love with Harry all those years ago.

“Actually, Molly,” Harry added, wide smile still in place, “it’s quite an honour that Ginny was even invited to the tryout. It would be rude not to show up. It’s not like she’s obligated to join the team just because she tries out.”

Her mother sighed and then locked eyes with Ginny, who was nodding along to Harry’s words.

“Is this true, Ginevra?” she asked, one brow arched in concern.

“Yes, Mum. Every word.”

“And this is really what you want to do. Play...” she scowled again, “ _Quidditch?_ ”  
Ginny’s face lit up. “Absolutely.”

Her mother shook her head and pressed a hand to the temples of her forehead. “But what about your Witches’ Finishing School and the cooking classes you were going to take?” She thinned her lips into a tight line. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

Ginny’s smile faded, but she tried to keep her face in a neutral expression. The sooner she ended this discussion, the sooner she could leave.

“No, Mum,” she said, her voice soft, “that was what _you_ wanted me to do. I don’t...I mean...I _want_ to play Quidditch. I _always_ have.”

Her mother sent her a doubtful look, but Ginny refused to back down.

“You said I was too young when I finished Hogwarts to go professional and I understood that.” She swallowed loudly. “But that was three years ago. And then you said that you didn’t want me playing Quidditch because I could get hurt playing with men. That it would be different if I were only playing with women. Well...it’s different now, Mum. That time’s come.” She pouted her bottom lip and tried to force tears to well up in her eyes. “Don’t make me miss this. _Please.”_

Her mother huffed and let out a long sigh. “Oh, alright, Ginevra. Go play your little game. But _remember_ this isn’t a _real_ career...especially for a young lady, whose going to have a family of her own.” She shot Harry a dirty look. “Hopefully sooner than later.” Then she ushered Ginny out of the kitchen. “Now, don’t make me regret this. Take care of yourself and scram.”

Ginny didn’t need to be told twice. With a quick “Thanks Mum”, she was scurrying out of the kitchen and then out the door. One way or another, she was going to make it to her tryout.

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

Somehow, Ginny made it to her tryout with three minutes to spare. She would have had longer if she hadn’t had to argue with the locker room manager, who kept insisting that a Ginny Weasley was not on the tryout roster. At first Ginny had been furious, but it turned out that she _was_ on the list and even had her own personal locker, which only the elite recruits were given. However, the catch was that she was listed under Ginny Potter instead of Weasley. After a terse apology to the locker room manager, Ginny accepted the locker and practise uniform she was given.

 _This is all a mistake. Just a simple error in paperwork. That’s all. It could happen to anyone_ , she kept telling herself. It had to be. Because the alternative was unimaginable.

She _deserved_ to be here. She knew she did, but all she could do was wait her turn and try her hardest. She hadn’t been invited because of her boyfriend; she was invited because of her pure and natural talent. That was all.

With shaky hands, she braided her long ponytail into a tight plait. She didn’t want her fiery curls striking her in the face when she was trying to fly. She closed her eyes and took deep, soothing breaths, trying to get her nerves under control. Before stepping into that locker room and seeing that dreadful locker plate, Ginny hadn’t been nervous. Not even a bit.

She had been confident in her skills, confident that she would make the team, perhaps even start. But now she wasn’t so sure. The other girls she saw around the locker room were giants, some almost twice her size. How could she compete with them? And there had to be a least 100 names on that stupid list. All those names and only 14 players would make the team. Merlin’s beard, she was doomed.

After taking another series of calming breaths, Ginny’s hands stopped shaking enough for her to put on her uniform. Obviously, she hadn’t expected a full set of Quidditch robes and leathers since this was only a tryout, but she hadn’t been expecting _this_ either.

The Unicorn’s practise gear consisted of the shortest pair of black shorts she had ever seen and a tight, sheer white tank top. The top was so tight that it left nothing to the imagination; her bra was completely visible through the shirt as well as every freckle on her chest and arms, and a patch of her pale, flat stomach peeked out the bottom.

Tugging on her shirt, Ginny looked in the nearby mirror and frowned. She looked absolutely ridiculous. This wasn’t Quidditch gear; she looked like a tart with her arse hanging out of her shorts and her stomach and breasts peaking out. She grinded her teeth and attempted to spell her shirt longer, so it would at least cover her stomach—but of course, the uniform had been charmed against any alterations. Bloody fucking hell. Banging her head against the lockers, Ginny closed her eyes and fell to the floor. She needed to relax. Immediately.  
_  
This wasn’t so bad. It could be worse_ , she told herself. At least she was here. And if she landed a spot on the team, then it would all be worth it.

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

“Prospective Chasers,” a shrill, haughty voice, drawled. “Please step forward and state your full name and recruit numbers. From the top.”

Ginny followed the group of girls in front of her and walked slowly in queue with them, keeping her head down and eyes glued to floor as everyone else seemed to be doing. Apparently, the manager of the Unicorns was a psychotic bitch. Or at least that’s what she had overheard in the locker room. Ginny had been smart enough not to get involved with the gossip because if this coach really was a crazy bitch, then there was a good chance she had set recording charms on the locker room. She was not getting caught badmouthing a coach she didn’t even know. For now, she was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she was just tough. And tough was good for Quidditch. Tough won Championships.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw a tall, dark haired girl step forward first. “Elizabeth A. Stevens. Recruit 68,” the girl said, voice deep and formal.

Next in line, an even taller blonde, stepped forward. “Margaret A. Brown. Recruit 69.”

Then, a brunette about Ginny’s height, who was well muscled and must have had a least two stone on her, stepped forward. “Victoria S. Pemberton III. Recruit 70.”

Finally, it was Ginny’s turn. Clearing her throat loudly, she stepped forward with her chin held high and shoulders back. She might be smaller than these other girls, but she was a Gryffindor for a reason and refused to be intimidated, even if for some strange reason her uniform appeared to be twice as tight as the other girls’.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley. Recruit 71.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” came the tight reply. “Now, don’t be shy, _my darlings_ , everyone can raise their heads. I promise I won’t bite.” A loud, familiar chortle filled the air. “ _Much_.”

Ginny’s head snapped forward and she gasped when she realised who was in front of her. That screechy voice had seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Not until now.

“Pa-Parkinson,” she croaked, before she could stop herself.

Pansy’s dark eyes locked on Ginny and a strong shiver ran down her back. Ginny had not seen Pansy since school, and most certainly had not excepted to see her _here_. She didn’t even think that Pansy played Quidditch. At least she hadn’t at school. Then again, none of the Slytherin girls did. Perhaps they hadn’t been allowed.

“Hmm, Gin-ev-ra,” Pansy rasped, voice deep and sultry. “You’re here. I wasn’t sure if you would come.” She looked Ginny over slowly, her eyes lingering on her shorts and breasts much longer than necessary.

“Well, I _am_ here,” Ginny snapped, her voice firm.

“So you are. However,” she stepped closer to Ginny, her dark, menacing eyes only inches away from Ginny’s face, “I have a Ginevra Molly _Potter_ on my list...not Weasley.”

Ginny bit down on her bottom lip and tried to keep her face as blank as possible. _She’s only trying to rile me up,_ Ginny thought. _I can’t let her do that. That’s what she wants_. “No,” Ginny said, voice more forceful now, “it’s _Weasley_. Not Potter.”

Pansy continued to hold Ginny’s stare, neither girl wanting to back down and admit defeat. It was as if they were the only two girls on the pitch. The other girls were completely forgotten.

“Very well,” Pansy said, after a pointed silence, her dark eyes, burning a hole through Ginny’s eyes, right through her soul. “Perhaps you’d like to start us off then _Weas-ley_.”

She gave Ginny a wicked smirk, and ran a hand through her black hair. Everything about her was just so fucking dark. Ginny gulped; her stomach was in knots and her breakfast threatened to expunge itself. But she couldn’t show weakness, not even a hint, and especially not to a Slytherin. She raised her chin in her best impression of Pansy and scowled, pretending to be bored and unaffected by Pansy’s request.

“I’d love to,” she said, her voice a haughty sneer.

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

Two hours later, Ginny was exhausted. The tryout had gone much better than she had expected—her flying had been tight, rolls elegant and sharp, and her aim precise. She had only missed three goals, which was a personal best for her. Yet, she wasn’t sure if it was enough. Two of the girls hadn’t missed a goal at all, and the other girl in her group had only missed four. Unless she was in the most competitive group, which was a definite possibility now that she knew that Pansy was the manager and had issued her invitation. But something in her gut told her that wasn’t the case, and even if she were in the top three scorers, she was still the smallest girl. Well, at least the smallest girl trying out for Chaser. Of course, the potential Seekers were all Ginny’s size or smaller.

It’s not that she was intimidated by the larger girls because she wasn’t. She was used to being small, smaller than her competition. Growing up with six brothers had given her years of practise. But how could she ever convince Pansy and the other coaches that even though she wasn’t as strong as the other girls nor could she throw as hard as them—that she deserved to be there? If only she could explain, explain that being smaller could be used as an advantage as she’d be able to outrun Bludgers quicker and would be underestimated by the other teams.

“Fuck!” Ginny banged her head against her locker for the second time that day.

This was her once chance and she had blown it. She needed to be better than the others not equal, better in every fucking way, especially with sodding Parkinson as a coach. There was no way that she would make the team now. It had taken her three years just to get this chance and even longer to convince her mother. Hell, her mother still wasn’t convinced that Quidditch was a viable career option. She was praying that Harry would pop the question soon, and then Ginny could get married and have tons of little Potter-Weasleys just like her mother. Godric’s hairy balls! That idea made her nauseous. She hated children and was allergic to dust and housework. What she wanted to do was to fly. And play Quidditch.

Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of flying—flying far away from the Burrow, far away from her barmy family. Sure, she loved her family; there was no denying that, but they drove her completely mental. When she first got on a broom, she was free, fast, equal to her brothers, faster even. It had been like a dream come true, and once she discovered that an all female Quidditch team existed, she knew that it was the only job she would ever want. If she made the team, she could fly every day, get paid, and travel the world. What more could she possibly ask for?

She screamed at the top of her lungs, thankful that she was the only person left in the locker rooms. This couldn’t be the end of her dream. She clawed at her shirt, trying to remove the offensive garment that was sticking to her sweat soaked chest. When the shirt didn’t budge, Ginny lost her patience and ripped it off, feeling satisfied at the loud tear that echoed through the room. Of course, at that exact minute, Pansy bloody Parkinson had to walk into the locker room, catching Ginny in the middle of her mental breakdown.

“Weasley,” Parkinson sneered, scrunching that pert little nose of hers that was no longer as pug-faced as Ginny had remembered it. “Please refrain from destroying _my_ property.”

“Your property?” Ginny scoffed. “I didn’t know coaches owned the uniforms. Whoops.”  
Pansy rolled her eyes and blew her long fringe out of her face. “It is when I _own_ the bloody team.”

Ginny’s eyes widened and her heart started to flutter. She’s bluffing. She had to be bluffing.

“Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you lying snake?”

Pansy shook her head out, her long hair freeing itself from its bun and falling on her shoulders in loose waves. How the hell did she do that? Why couldn’t Ginny do that?

“Believe what you want, Weasley,” she said in her usual bored tone. “If I were you, I wouldn’t talk down to your coach. I do have your future in my hands after all.”

Ginny closed her eyes and swallowed the last remaining strand of her pride. No matter how she felt about Parkinson, how much she hated that annoying twat, she couldn’t let her personal feelings get in the way. Parkinson was right. She was the coach and Ginny had been out of line.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse and foreign. “I’m just tired.”

Pansy regarded her closely again, her eyes travelling down her half-naked body, resting on Ginny’s chest and stomach. She locked eyes with Ginny, and it was almost as if she were impressed, hungry. But that was insane, wasn’t it?

“You surprise me, Red.” Pansy pursed her red lips and ran her tongue over them, slowly, licking them completely around and then sucking on her bottom lip, her dark gaze never once leaving Ginny’s eyes. “Perhaps I misjudged you.” Her lips were parted now and slightly swollen. “Meet me outside in five minutes. We need to discuss...your little tryout.”

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

 

After composing herself and putting on a new shirt, Ginny met Pansy on the pitch, broom in hand. She wasn’t sure why she had brought her broom with her, but for some reason it felt comforting in her hands, almost like a barrier between her and Parkinson. Besides, if Pansy was going to cut her from the team, at least Ginny could take off and work her anger off in the sky.

“Parkinson,” Ginny said, her voice much calmer than before, “what is that you want to discuss?”

Pansy frowned, her dark eyes meeting Ginny’s again. She was dressed in the same uniform that Ginny had been wearing earlier, a tight tank top and those obscenely short shorts. But Pansy’s shirt was black and even tighter than Ginny’s—if that were even possible. And her arms were so bloody defined. When in the hell did Pansy get arms like that? And why was Ginny noticing?

Pansy seemed to catch her discomfort and broke the silence. “You did well today, Red.” Pansy’s voice was still cold and her eyes calculating. Ginny wasn’t sure if she was complimenting her or not. You could never tell with Slytherins.

“I _know_.”  
Pansy’s eyes widened and she ran a hand through her black locks. Her long hair fell in loose, shiny waves, cascading past her shoulders. Ginny was instantly jealous; her hair would never look that good after spending half the day up in a bun and playing Quidditch. Pansy must have placed one of those expensive stasis charms on it. Ginny glowered at her. What a bitch.

“You’re cheeky, Red.” Pansy chuckled. “I like that. _A lot._ ” Her amused eyes turned serious.

“However, you weren’t good enough.”

Ginny grimaced. “Yes, I was. I tied in second for top scorer.”

“That you did. But look, Red, I already have three star Chasers from last year.” Pansy sighed.

“I really am only looking for Reserve Chasers.”

Ginny’s heart fluttered, blood rushing to her cheeks and ears. This whole thing had been a joke. Reserve Chaser? She wasn’t a Reserve. She was good enough to start.

“Reserve?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Pansy examined her fingernails, painted black -- how predictable -- but short, really short, which did surprise Ginny. Somehow, she always pictured someone like Parkinson with long, sharp claws.

“Sorry.” She shrugged. “And really, I just made a deal with the Harpies, so it looks like I’m only going to need two Reserve Chasers.”

Ginny’s hands were shaking now, fists clenching at her sides. If only they hadn’t checked her wand at sign in. They probably check wands so none of the girls hex this fucking cunt into next year.

“You fucking bitch! You wasted my time.” She was snarling at Pansy, her lips curled and eyes blazing. “Was this all some sort of game to you? A joke. Is that why you invited me?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Weasley. Games can be quite... _entertaining.”_

Pansy closed the distance between them, standing only inches away from Ginny’s face. She could make out every freckle and count every long, curled eyelash on Pansy’s tanned face. It was completely disconcerting.

“Tell me, Weasley,” she purred, leaning in and lips brushing against Ginny’s ear, “are you _too good_ to be a Reserve Chaser?”

“Yes!” Ginny insisted, pushing away from her. “A million times, yes! I deserve to _bloody_ start. You _need_ me.”

Ginny expected Pansy to tilt her long neck back again and laugh, to mock Ginny and send her on her way. She didn’t. Instead, she just let out a loud, dramatic sigh.

“You may be right, Red.”

Ginny beamed.

“But don’t look so smug yet, little girl.” Pansy sneered. “You are good and I _mig_ ht need you...but not as a Chaser.”

Ginny arched an eyebrow and ignored the little girl comment. For now. “What do you mean?”

“It so happens I’m in need of a Seeker.”

Ginny’s eye widened again, opening them as wide as a house-elf. “What’s that got to do with me?” She gulped. “I’m a Chaser.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“That’s not what I remember. I remember seeing you Seek at school.”

Pansy smiled at her, the first smile the other girl had ever shared with Ginny. It lit up her dark face instantly, and for the first time, Ginny was forced to admit that Pansy was pretty, stunning really. At least when she smiled.

“That was before. I-I-don’t Seek anymore.” Ginny looked down at her feet. “I haven’t in years.”

“Why not?”

Ginny was a coward. Up until now, she had been so strong, taking everything in stride. But this was too much. She didn’t Seek anymore and that was final. Under no terms, would she discuss the reasons. Those were private.

“I just don’t. I Chase. That’s it.”

Pansy frowned. “Well, you should, Red. You were good, great even.” She smirked but instead of her usual condescending smirk, this one was a bit flirtatious. “Hell, I even saw you beat _Potter_.”

Ginny sighed. Why couldn’t this annoying girl just drop it? “That was just an exhibition. It didn’t count.”

“Sure it did. Don’t make excuses. Besides—you beat Draco once too.”

Now, it was Ginny’s turn to roll her eyes. “Malfoy? He was never _that_ good. An elegant flier maybe, but he spent more time worrying about the wind messing up his hair, than looking for the Snitch...the _great pouf_ that he is.”

Pansy scowled and her eyes grew cold and narrowed again, her usual expression of disdain back in place. “Why...do you have something against poufs?” The challenge was obvious in her eyes.

“What? No!” Ginny insisted. “I mean he’s not even a pouf. I didn’t mean--”  
Pansy arched an eyebrow, still not convinced about something that Ginny couldn’t quite pinpoint, but her sharp glare softened. “Actually he is.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do. And really it was quite _obvious_.”

“Right. Erm...Parkinson...is there a point to this conversation?”

“As a matter of fact there is. I want you to be _my_ Seeker. I know you can do it.” She gritted her teeth. “You’re a natural,” she explained, narrowing her eyes. “Now...don’t make me say it again. Take it or leave it.”

Ginny snorted. Normally, Pansy made her lose her mind, but right now she was finding her quite entertaining, amusing really. It was hilarious how just offering a little compliment appeared to pain her.

“So you’re offering me a place on your team?”

Pansy blinked, fluttering her eyelashes. Merlin’s beard, were her eyelashes really that long? She must have charmed them. It was uncanny. And Beautiful. Fuck, what the hell was Ginny thinking? She must have been clocked too hard with that Bludger during practise. It was affecting her brain.

“Yes,” Pansy said, after careful consideration. “You can be me my Reserve Seeker. Effective immediately. A two season contract.”

“What?” Ginny felt her cheeks flush again and shook her head. “No. I want to start. I’m good enough to start.”

Pansy tilted her head back, letting Ginny glimpse more of that long, sinewy neck and laughed. Darkly. Deeply. “Cocky aren’t you for such a little thing?” She smirked. “Just a minute ago you were telling me that you don’t Seek anymore...that you haven’t for years.”

“I’m a natural,” Ginny retorted, using Pansy’s own words against her, her own smug smile in place. “Besides, I said I _don’t_ Seek anymore....not that I _can’t_ Seek.”

“Very Slytherin of you...Red. I’m impressed.” Pansy pursed her lips again and furrowed her brow. “So...you’re really that confident that you could just start right away? Say...beat our Star Seeker in a Seeker’s game?”

“Of course.”

“Alright then, best out of three. Let’s go.”

“What?”

Pansy shook her head and rolled her eyes. Apparently, that was her response to everything. “You’re looking at the starting Seeker. Beat me and the job’s yours.”

Ginny laughed, fingering the broom in her hand; she had almost forgotten she was holding it. “Too easy, Parkinson. Who taught you how to Seek, Malfoy? Stop taking the piss.”

Pansy huffed, throwing her hair behind her shoulders and pretending to be deeply affronted. “I’m serious. And—I taught him, you wench. Now, are you up for the challenge?”

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

Ginny’s fingers closed around the familiar gold ball, cool metal humming underneath her fingertips and sending a sharp tremor down her spine. She had done it—beat Pansy to the Snitch two out of three times. And it was bloody fantastic.

Still trying to catch her breath, Ginny landed on the ground and dropped her broom, raising the Snitch over her head as if it were the Quidditch Cup rather than an ordinary Snitch. She was grinning from ear to ear and didn’t even care that her long plait had come undone. Her cheeks were flushed and lips wind chapped, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in forever, she felt truly alive.

While basking in her victory, Ginny didn’t notice Parkinson land beside her. When she turned around to face her, she gasped. Pansy’s broom was draped elegantly on her shoulder and her sun-kissed face was rouging at the cheeks. Somehow, her windswept hair was tousled but in a sexy just shagged manner rather than a disaster like Ginny’s, her makeup also intact.

Christ, she looked fucking beautiful. There were no other words. Ginny had never been attracted to girls before. Sure, she noticed girls all the time, noticed how soft and shiny their hair looked, how clear their complexions were, how long and lean their legs were, but that was normal, wasn’t it? Really, she was just sizing out the competition. Didn’t all girls do this?

As Pansy stepped forward, Ginny’s heart fluttered again, banging thunderously against her chest. Pansy grinned, her dark eyes shining brighter than she had ever seen. “That was impressive, Red. Truly impressive.”

“I know.” Ginny returned Pansy’s wicked grin and batted her eyelashes at her. “So when do I start?”

Pansy sniggered and ran a hand through her windswept hair, flicking it off her shoulders. “Now...don’t get ahead of yourself, Red. That _was_ impressive, but you still need work. Your flying was superb but your dives and feints were rusty.” She smiled at Ginny again, her dark eyes glowing with what Ginny could only assume was amusement. “Yes, you’ll make a great Reserve Seeker for now. And then we’ll see.”

“No!” Ginny was livid, her magic humming underneath her fingertips; she had the urge to curse the other girl, curse her all the way to the locker room. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, fingers wrapped underneath her forearms and clutching onto her shirt. “I beat you fair and square, Parkinson. We made a deal. And I won.”

Pansy snorted and placed her broom on the floor on top of Ginny’s. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Do I really look like a Seeker?”

Ginny scowled and looked at the other girl closely. Pansy was tall, much taller than Ginny, with long, lean legs that went on for days. She could make out traces of ab muscles underneath her tight top and those strong shoulders and well-defined arms looked even fitter close up. No, Pansy did not look like a Seeker at all. She was much too tall and strong. If anything, she had the ideal body type of a Beater or a Keeper. Merlin’s saggy balls!

“You fucking cunt. You lied to me.”

Pansy shrugged, her eyes still sparkling with amusement. “I’m a Slytherin. It’s not my fault all Gryffindors are so bleeding thick.” She gave a bored sigh. “Now...if you’re not going to accept my proposal...be a good little Gryffindor and get off my Pitch. Go whinge to that boyfriend of yours or something.” She sniffed. “If he’s available that is.”

“Leave Harry out of this. You don’t know anything about him,” Ginny hissed. “You’re probably jealous.” She was seeing red now; her magic crinkling at her fingertips again, more forcefully than before.

“Gods, Weasley, you really are pathetic.” She licked her lips. “Or maybe just blind. He’s working late again, isn’t he?”

Ginny blanched. How the hell could Pansy know that? “You’re wrong.”

Pansy tilted her head back and looked at the sky. “You’re so transparent, Ginevra. I’ll take that as a yes.” As she lowered her head, she locked eyes with Ginny again, her gaze no longer amused. “Do you really think it’s a coincidence that he’s working late so often? Can you really be that naive, little girl?”

“Take that back.”

Pansy pretended to yawn. “You know I’m right, Red. That’s why you’re so angry. You’re turning as red as your hair. I guess it’s true what they say about redheads...and Weasleys that you’re all--”

Ginny never did find out what Wealseys were because at that moment she tackled Pansy, running at her with enough force to tackle someone twice her size. It didn’t matter that Pansy was bigger than her, stronger than her; Ginny slammed her to the ground, pinning her wrists above her head. Surprisingly, Pansy felt warm beneath her; Ginny assumed she would be cold like ice.

“I said take that back PARKINSON!”

Pansy paled, the colour draining from her cheeks, and her eyes grew wide, wider than Ginny had ever seen them. “Wow, Weasley,” Pansy drawled, “so you like it rough, huh? I like that in a girl. Potter’s really being a twat.”

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Pansy squirmed underneath her, trying to get free, but Ginny only tightened her grip on Pansy’s wrists. She was not getting away that easily.

“What...you don’t like the _dirty Slytherin_ calling your _precious Potter_ names?” she sneered, her upper lip curling in disdain. “I’m completely serious, Weasley. How can you defend him...when he so easily forgets you? Do you know what’s he’s doing right now? What he’s been doing every night for weeks now?”

“I said shut up!” Ginny tightened her grip on Pansy’s wrists again, this time crushing them in her hand, causing Pansy to let out a loud shriek.

“Listen to me, you bitch. He’s fucking around on you. I know it for a fact.” Her voice was hoarse and eyes dangerous. Slowly, she picked her head off the grass and leant in toward Ginny. For a moment, Ginny thought that Pansy was going to kiss her, but instead she spit at her, right in her face. “Get your dirty hands off me, Weasley! How dare you touch me?”

Ginny was shocked. No one had ever spit in her face before, the sheer nerve of that cow; she dropped one of Pansy’s wrists and wiped the spittle off her cheek, never breaking eye contact with the bitch underneath her. She made sure to wipe her hand down Pansy’s thigh, which was warm and smooth underneath her fingertips. She brought that same hand to Pansy’s face, who had paled considerably, and brushed her index finger down Pansy’s cheek, her skin even softer than her thigh. Pansy gulped loudly under the intimate touch, and Ginny raised her hand, striking Pansy across the face—hard—her hand leaving an angry mark on Pansy’s cheek.

Pansy winced. “You fucking cunt,” she spat, her voice an octave higher than normal.  
Ginny tutted and gave her a smug smile. The bitch had deserved that slap and more. Unfortunately, Ginny’s victory was short lived. While Ginny was busy being smug, Pansy kicked her sharply in the shin and managed to roll Ginny over. Using her size and weight advantage, Pansy held Ginny down, giving her a taste of her own medicine and then pulled her hair.

“Never underestimate a Slytherin, little girl,” she saud through gritted teeth, grabbing another handful of Ginny’s long hair and tugging.

“Oww! Oww!” Ginny squealed. “What are you twelve, Parkinson?”

“Whatever works.” She pushed her weight further on top of Ginny, making sure that Ginny had no chance to get up. “And you slapped me, you little slut.”

“I’m the slut?” Ginny asked, holding back a laugh.

Pansy glared at her. “I rather be a slut then a scared, little bitch like you...just because you slap me doesn’t mean that Potter isn’t still making a fool of you.” Pansy’s eyes fluttered closed. When she opened them again, her expression had softened, her eyes almost warm.

“You deserve better.” Her voice was serious and almost kind.

Ginny parted her lips and gasped, stunned at Pansy’s change in attitude, her warm expression. Could it be true? Is Harry? No, of course not. Pansy was a lying cow, always had been. Why would she be telling the truth about this? But hadn’t Ginny noticed changes in Harry’s behaviour too? He’s happier lately, new cologne, wearing his nicest robes, combing his hair. No—all those things were just coincidences. Right?

Ginny lifted her head off the grass and locked eyes with Pansy, giving the other girl her most earnest expression, her resignation. “Why do you care, Pansy?” She hoped that the use of the other girl’s name would make Pansy want to tell the truth and give up whatever this little charade was.

“I just _do._ ”

Before Ginny could respond, soft hands grabbed her, digging into her wrists and bringing her close. Ginny gasped and Pansy released one wrist and entwined a hand in Ginny’s hair, her smooth fingers caressing Ginny’s scalp, causing Ginny to shudder. While her mouth was still dry from Pansy’s almost intimate caresses, Pansy did the unthinkable and kissed her. Right on the bloody mouth.

Ginny froze, immobile and in disbelief—a girl and not just any girl—Pansy sodding Parkinson, was snogging her. It was wrong—so wrong—but then why the hell wasn’t she pushing her off? Why was she letting her continue, letting her deepen the kiss, allowing her tongue to press against Ginny’s closed lips and demand entrance?

Ginny hated her last kiss that she shared with Harry; he had been much too rough and forceful, almost choking her with his tongue. And Dean, the only other boy she had ever kissed—well, kissing Dean had been different; he was much gentler than Harry, much more skilled with his tongue. But holy shit... _this kiss_ —kissing Pansy Parkinson was fucking amazing.

Pansy’s mouth was hot and sweet beneath hers—her lips tasting faintly like chocolate and so very smooth. Merlin, what kind of lipstick did this girl use? At times, Ginny felt that when she was kissing Harry or even Dean, that the other boy engulfed her, intimidated her with their large lips but not Pansy. Pansy’ lips were full and pouty, slightly larger than Ginny’s, but still a perfect fit. Her tongue massaged against Ginny’s, moving in sync with hers and never poked her or slobbered, as sometimes the boys had when they got over enthusiastic and started rubbing up against her. Nothing like this.

Ginny’s heart was racing and palms sweating; her entire body flushed beneath Pansy, an all too familiar heat forming between her thighs. Bloody hell she was turned on. Really fucking turned on. She leant further into the kiss and moaned, no longer caring that she was kissing a girl or Pansy Parkinson at that.

She didn’t know when the last time that she had felt like this was, felt so fucking aroused. It had been so long since she last came, since she had last reached orgasm. For months now, sex with Harry had been rushed and unfulfilling, many times ending with neither of them climaxing.

Ginny moaned again, groaning from deep within her throat, and Pansy shoved her shoulders back on the ground again, deepening the kiss as if she were almost mauling her, ravishing her. She repositioned herself, so her crotch lined up right on top of Ginny’s, making Ginny moan even louder.

Pansy broke the kiss for a moment, sucking in a quick breath of air, and then started trailing kisses down Ginny’s neck. Ginny tilted her head back and gasped, shocked at the heat spreading down her legs. Pansy must have noticed her spasm because she started sucking on Ginny’s neck, now with enough suction that it would surely leave marks and also grinding her hips.

“Gah,” Ginny cried out, unconsciously lifting her own hips to meet Pansy’s. What the hell were they doing? They were rubbing their crotches together, desperately, wantonly, like a couple of horny teenage boys. But Merlin it felt so fucking amazing that Ginny couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Pan-sy,” Ginny rasped, opening her eyes and hoping to convey her desperation to the other girl. “ _Please_.”

Pansy stopped mauling Ginny’s neck for a moment and tugged her shirt over her head, nodding at Ginny for her to do the same. With fumbling fingers, Ginny pulled her own shirt over her head, not caring that she hadn’t had time to change into a bra in her haste to meet Pansy on the pitch.

Now it was Pansy’s turn to gasp, her jaw dropping in a wide ‘O’. “Fuck, Red, those are...” She ogled Ginny’s breasts. “You are...just....Gawd.”

Ginny laughed, arching her back up in order to show off her breasts. Ginny had fucking fabulous breasts, full and perky, especially for someone of her height. It was nice to get recognition for them, particularly because Harry never paid them much attention at all.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Ginny replied with a cheeky grin, starting to grind her hips again as Pansy palmed her breasts and kneaded them, rubbing them in clockwise circles. Ginny’s breath hitched, growing heavier with each caress, and then Pansy slowly worked her right hand down her body, rubbing and massaging her chest and then eventually fingering the waistband of her shorts. Her long fingers tickled Ginny’s stomach, sending more tremors up and down her body and causing Ginny to squirm and protest. Giving into Ginny’s protests, Pansy stopped her teasing on Ginny’s lower stomach, and instead crawled her hand up Ginny’s thigh, straight up her shorts.

Pansy’s eyes widened, glazed over in lust. “No knickers?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. “You really are gagging for it aren’t you, Weasley?”

Tracing the outer lip of Ginny’s labia in soft circles, Pansy looked up at Ginny, clearly checking for objections. Ginny gave her a slight nod and then Pansy inserted her long, nimble fingers, deep within Ginny, sliding them up and down—each time deeper and massaging, while still kneading Ginny’s breast with her right hand. Ginny let out a deep moan and bit down on her lip, trying to contain the increasing heat that was spreading down her body and causing her to tremble.

“You should see yourself, Red. You’re quite a sight right now...moaning and squirming below me.” Pansy’s voice was sultry and Ginny imagined how wicked her face must look. “I bet Potter doesn’t touch you like this...doesn’t make you cry out like this.”

She kept this up for several minutes, at first her pace slow but gradually speeding up. Ginny was frantic, trying to stay still and not jerk her hips into every motion, but her body betrayed her, her pussy becoming wetter by the second, especially once Pansy’s left hand started first tracing circles and then rubbing her clit simultaneously.

“You like that don’t you, Gin-ev-ra?” Pansy taunted. “You like it that I’m fucking your cunt with my fingers, my filthy Slytherin fingers. You’re a _little slut,_ you know that?”  
Ginny bit down on her lip, harder than before even, tasting blood in her mouth, and whimpered, begging the other girl to continue.

“Are you begging me, Weasley? Begging me to fuck you...right here on the grass where anyone could see?” Pansy laughed, emitting a deep sultry, sound from her throat. “Oh, if only Potter could see you now. I bet he never makes you beg, never gets to see your face like this all flushed, and eyes rolling to the back of your head.” Her breath started to quicken. “Fuck, Weasley...who knew you could be so hot? Potter doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Ginny continued to moan, fucking herself on Pansy’s expert fingers, and losing herself in the pleasure. She didn’t know how long she lay there, with her eyes closed, and muttering incoherent thoughts. It could have been hours, minutes, or perhaps even just mere seconds, but what she did know was that before she knew it, her entire body was on fire, painfully so. A cold sweat streamed down her chest, her back arching off the ground and toes curling.

Nothing else mattered.

She didn’t care that she was sprawled out on the ground, rolling around on a grassy knoll, where anyone could see, or even that a girl she had always considered an enemy was fucking her. All that mattered was that for the first time in months, Ginny was free, flying high in the sky like she always dreamed of—and finally with thoughts of running away and disappearing into the sky, far, far away from the Burrow, away from painful war memories, and those Finishing School bitches, Ginny was pushed over the edge and came, screaming Pansy’s name loudly and her entire body pulsating.

 

 

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

Ginny lay on her sweat covered back, her breath still hitching and heart beat racing, even though it had been several minutes since her last orgasm. Pansy and her had both come three different times and Ginny was still trembling, never having experienced multiple orgasms before. With Harry, she was lucky if she even reached one.  
  
Harry.

Fuck. Somehow, in her secret little tryst, or whatever this was, she had forgotten about Harry. Even if Harry and her had problems and were more like best friends these days than lovers, he was still technically her boyfriend. She had cheated on him. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ She wasn’t a cheater. She was a Gryffindor, an honourable Gryffindor; she was supposed to be above that type of immoral behaviour.

Then again, hadn’t Pansy said that Harry was cheating on her? After all, they hadn’t been intimate in months. Most of the time they barely even slept in the same bed. Damn it, she was so confused. Was Pansy playing her? Was this all some type of twisted game? She couldn’t even bring herself to be angry if it had been, since the sex had been amazing and all, but she really did need to know the truth.

Taking a deep breath and calling up all her Gryffindor courage, she turned to face Pansy, who was spread out and clad only in a pair of lacy knickers, lost in her own euphoric bliss.

“Pansy?” she asked, tapping the other girl on the shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I-I” Ginny started playing with the grass, plucking at the strands as if they had offended her.

“It’s true about Harry...isn’t it?”

Pansy’s eyes snapped open and she sat up to face Ginny, the content smile no longer on her face. “Yes,” she said, voice serious, “I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

Ginny gave her a doubtful look.

“Okay, maybe I would have in the past. But I _didn’t_. What would I gain from lying to you?” She leered at Ginny. “It’s not like I want Potter for myself. Clearly, he’s not my type.”

Ginny sighed. “I suppose you’re right. And...I think I’ve known for awhile now that he was cheating on me.”

Pansy nodded but didn’t say anything.

“It’s just...” She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sharp pang to her chest. Even if she wasn’t in love with Harry anymore, it still hurt to know that there was someone else out there making him happy, putting that radiant smile on his face. “Who is it, Pansy? Tell me... _please_.”

Pansy scooted closer to Ginny and ran a finger up her arm, excruciatingly slow; the gesture was so intimate, so soothing, that it sent another shiver done Ginny’s back. Her dark eyes were shining with sympathy and concern.

“I think you know, Weasley. I think you’ve known all along.” She shook her head. “Just remember it’s just sex. I doubt it means anything.”

“But-but...how could he do something like that?”

Pansy gave her a pointed look, cocking both eyebrows as if to say ‘you cannot be serious’.  
“Well,” Ginny said slowly, “I suppose I can understand how. I don’t like you _at all_ , Parkinson. And we just had brilliant sex.”

Parkinson sniggered, her entire chest shaking with amusement. “Don’t worry, Weasley, the feeling is mutual.”

Ginny chewed on the corner of her lip and started mauling the grass again. “Right.”

Pansy gave another exaggerated sigh. Apparently, even if she had matured since school, she still hadn’t given up her knack for histrionics. “Look, Red, it’s not the end of the world. They’ve been obsessed with each other for years. It was bound to happen.”

“That’s _not_ an excuse.”

“Maybe not...but that’s life. Men are dogs. _All_ of them. They only think with their cocks.”  
She reached out and brushed Ginny’s long fringe out of her face. “You have other things to worry about right now. So screw Potter. He’s holding you back.” She leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss on Ginny’s lips, causing Ginny’s lips to tingle. “Now, I’m sure you have better things to do than _destroy_ my expensive grass.” She pushed herself off the ground with two hands and threw Ginny her grass stained shirt.

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t really have any other plans.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, shrugging on her own clothing, which somehow remained grass-free. “Then go home and get some rest Weasley...because _you_ might be free for the rest of the day, but I do have a team to run and cuts to make.”

Ginny’s throat felt suddenly dry. With all the insane events of the afternoon, she had almost forgotten about her Quidditch tryout. Damn. She had a million questions. Had she made the team? Was she going to Seek? Would things be awkward with Parkinson? Would they have sex again? God, she wanted to have sex again.

Pansy must have noticed the distress on Ginny’s face because she placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Relax, it’s just a game. No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“Right, Sorry.” Quickly, Ginny threw her shirt over her head, not caring that she was putting it on inside out. “I’ll just be going now. Erm...thanks for,” she frowned, “erm...everything.”

Pansy chuckled. “My pleasure, Weasley. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Ginny nodded nervously and started walking away. The walk back to the locker room hadn’t seemed this long the first time. Her heart was hammering in her chest so loudly that she was afraid Pansy could hear it and was mocking her in the distance. Keeping her head held high, she tried to pretend everything was fine. Only a few more steps.

“And Weasley,” Pansy yelled from half-way across the pitch, “practise starts at 6 am tomorrow. Do _not_ be late. Welcome to the Unicorns.”

Ginny spun on her heel so quickly that she almost lost her balance. She turned to face Pansy and rewarded her with a dazzling smile. “Don’t worry." She was grinning like an idiot but didn't care in the slightest. “I’ll be there at 5.30. Maybe we can have a private warm up?”

 

**~Fin**

 

* * *

 

 **A/N** : Thanks so much for reading! This was so much fun to write, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. A sequel wouldn't be out of the question. 


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